Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States.

Posts: 5,228

Dick hurried off towards the kitchen door as fast as his legs could carry him. When he entered, he found Primrose sitting beside the table, her leg sticking out in front of her, twisted to one side. It was definitely broken. Cela, Lilly, and Tollers stood about, looking as though they didn’t quite know what to do.

“Tollers, run off and get Mr. Torbias, down Willow Grove. Cela, do you have anything that will ease pain? Lilly, you go find Rowan. There are still people outside there who don’t know what’s going on and don’t need it explained to them - they just need to be served. Will is outside, I’m getting him water. In a moment, he’ll able enough to come inside.”

He filled a cup while speaking and then headed for the door again. Outside, he poked his head back within. “Cela, ice would probably be a good thing if you have any on hand. . .at least for Will. I don’t know if the arm or wrist is broken or what.” He hurried on back to Will. Kneeling beside him, he reached for his right hand (the uninjured one), and pressed the cup into it. “Here you go, Will,” he said, softening his voice. “Take it easy. Tell me when you can walk and I’ll help you inside.”

--------

Lilly Finds Rowan

Lilly went out of the kitchen and into the Common Room in search of Rowan. To her surprise, she saw her there, but leaving it, going back towards the Big People part of the inn. A sharp glance around showed her that her two youngest were speaking with a hobbit lass no older than they. She didn’t recognize the girl, but she didn’t mind. She did wonder, however, how they suddenly got into a conversation with her when they had originally gone off in search of Rowan.

Her eyes darted back towards Rowan just in time to see her disappear through the door. Lilly quickly crossed the room and followed her. She called her name as she came through the door. Rowan turned towards her quickly, a look of surprise on her face.

“Come along, girl, what are you doing?” Lilly asked, only a little sharply. “Dick’s in sore need of you this morning and you seem to be no where to be found!”

Location: You say your hurting is over.. It feels like you're out of reach...

Posts: 86

Gable was in the corner of the kitchen, looking at everyone else who was busy helping out, making her feel useless. Her thoughts on the pony had vanished and turned into worry for Will and Primrose.

“Is there anything that I can do to help Will and Primrose?” Gable asked, hoping not to be left watching from the sidelines. She took a step away from the corner. That’s all she was allowed to do when she was little and her parents were dying, to stand in the corner, hoping everything would be ok and knowing the graveness of the situation…

‘Come along, girl, what are you doing?’ Lilly asked, only a little sharply. The older woman went on to say she was needed, with the firm implication that she meant NOW.

Rowan was about to protest that she was seeing to a guest Master Boffin, himself, had taken to a room, but the look on Lily’s face was daunting. Hmmmm… this was something more than just not having workers where they were supposed to be.

‘Right, then,’ Rowan said instead, following Lily out to the Common Room. She picked up one of the large empty trays leaning against the wall. ‘I’ll just start picking up the empty plates and such. Taking orders as I go along.’

She tucked a towel from behind the bar into the pocket of her apron and putting a welcoming smile on her face, began to make the rounds of the room.

Griffo smiled as the boy showed great pleasure at the compliment, and then, with a red face, showed the humility that every well-raised child, in the gaffer’s opinion, should have. When little Taffy started talking about his grandfather, though, it became a little more difficult for the old Hobbit to keep a smile on his face. It had been a long while since he had any children to bounce on his knee. Those of his children who had children of their own now were far too great a distance away to really know their grandpa. And because of that, whenever they visited grandpa or he visited them, they preferred hiding beyond their mummy or daddy’s leg.

Taffy began showing Griffo different prized items, and the gaffer was amazed by the amount of energy the young boy had. It really had been a long time since he had spent time with a child who wasn’t yet so worried with becoming an adult that they slowed things down for an older person. The white-haired gaffer was very taken with the whistle, impressed by the detail. Now there was a Hobbit who had not forgotten the many secrets of the trade. Griffo was pleased that these things were seemingly being passed down to Taffy.

When the boy told him about the tiny carving of the cat, the gaffer once again broke into a smile. It was a beautiful and incredibly sweet gift. “Now there’s a beautiful thing,” Griffo whispered back, gladly maintaining the air of secrecy. “You’re a good lad, making such a thing for your sister. And I know she’ll prize that gift above all else.”

Drawing his eyes up from the visage of the kitten, Griffo waved a finger at the boy playfully. “And you go ahead and tell her for me that she has a gorgeous animal there.”

Enjoying the conversation with the boy, and not wanting it to end, the gaffer asked the boy another question. “What about you, you have any pets of your own?” Griffo knew that everyone loved talking about themselves, not least of all children – especially ones like Taffy.

As soon as Dick had mentioned finding something to ease pain, Cela had set about brewing a strong tea that, while not particularly tasty, certainly worked well as a pain reliever. “And ice,” she murmured to herself as she set the tea to boiling. She was just about to head down into the cellar when Gable stepped forward, “Is there anything that I can do to help Will and Primrose?”

Cela momentarily considered sending her down to the cellar to find the ice, then realized that the ceiling would be too low down there for the Elf. It would probably take too long for her to find it, anyhow. And the tea didn’t really need to be watched; it wouldn’t boil for another several minutes. What Primrose and Will would really need was more space – the kitchen was starting to feel downright crowded. An idea struck her. “Actually, yes. Someone needs to go down the road to fetch Doc Puddifoot. Just tell him that Primrose will need her leg splinted, and Will’s arm and head need to be looked at. You know the place?” Gable nodded. “Good. Go there now.” Cela turned to Tollers. “You can go back to whatever it was you were doing. Somebody will let you know if you’re needed.”

With that, she disappeared down into the cellar, going straight to the far wall where a sealed ice box was kept. Keeping it open for as short a time as possible, she took a couple blocks of ice and carried them upstairs in a bucket stationed by the box. There, she wrapped them in a clean rag for Will when he came in. As she worked, she was finally able to ask, “Now, Primrose, what exactly happened out there?”

Primrose had been sitting by the table and trying very hard not to look at her twisted leg. It hurt terribly, but she was more concerned about Will. Her leg was broken. But Will had hit his head and wasn't quite right yet as far as she could tell as he stumbled unsteadily in the yard. She blamed herself entirely and tried to focus on ways to make her error up to him. The hobbit lass tearfully thought to herself that if Will were hurt badly, she never could do enough to make things right. Fear and worry for him drove the stabbing ache in her leg from her mind, replacing it with a gnawing pain of a different kind centered near a lump in her throat.

The inn staff hurried through the kitchen, seeing what they could do the help the injured pair. Primrose was now numb with worry, no longer crying, failing to notice her friends in her distraction. Cela began to say something that ended in, "What exactly happened out there?" That brought her attention back, along with a rush of tears.

"Oh, Cela! It was all my fault! I'm such a fool."

Cela stared at her, puzzled. "Now, slow down Primrose. One thing at a time before you blame yourself. What happened?"

Primrose brought her eyes to meet Cela's, struggling to calm herself enough to tell the story. "I went out with the basket," she began. "Will was on the roof. I asked if he wanted me to bring the basket up to him, just as a joke. But he said I should take it up and bring him a tarring brush while I was at it. And he wasn't joking." Prim's voice went up a tone as she spoke. "So I went up - or tried. I ought never to have done it. I've never been on a ladder before. And especially not after Will told me there was a loose rung. I put my foot on the loose one and slipped. I fell and the next thing I remember, Will was lying on the ground next to me. He must have heard me fall and tried to come down after me, only the ladder was down too so he didn't make it down." She trembled softly and, ignoring the tears that now fell rapidly down her cheeks, pulled at her hair.

"Cela, how's Will? He didn't look right when they brought me in here. He's hurt worse than me. Everyone ought to be seeing to him, not me."

Location: You say your hurting is over.. It feels like you're out of reach...

Posts: 86

Gable nodded and went quickly out the door. She grabbed one of the stallions that still needed his exercise for the day and saddled and bridled him, quickly.

She jumped into the saddle in one fluid movement and tapped her heals into his sides. She let him run as fast as he pleased, not letting him outdo himself on the way. Once she was there she jumped down from the horse and strode up to the door. She knocked several times and waited for an answer, but none came.

She walked over to his neighbors and knocked on the door. “Hello?” a young hobbit asked, answering the door. She looked to be about 12 and her curly hair was bouncing in the wind.

“Do you know where Doc Puddifoot is? I need to find him, quickly. Primrose’s leg looks broken and Will’s head and wrist need checked.” Gable told the young hobbit.

“Yes, I do know where he is. He said he’d be off to the market for a bit and he might visit an old friend too while he’s at it,” the young hobbit replied.

“Thank you!” Gable called and ran to the stallion. She jumped up into the saddle and sent him off in the direction towards the market. She did a quick scan and couldn’t find him. She put the stallion in a slight canter and called out, “Doc Puddifoot?”

“I’m over here,” he called from the fruit stand. “What is it?”

“We need you at the Inn. Primrose’s leg needs set and Will’s head and wrist need’s looked at. They fell off of a roof, well, Primrose fell off of the ladder and Will fell off of the roof, but anyways, details later. Get on.” Gable told the Doc.

She put the stallion into a gallop and turned the stallion back to the Inn. Once there, she drew him to a halt and set the hobbit onto the ground, where he scurried inside.

She cooled the stallion down and put him back into his stall. She put away the saddle, bridle, and saddle blanket. Then she hurried into the Inn, to see how everything’s going.

By the time Master Puddifoot arrived the innkeeper had helped Will into the kitchen and to a chair. Will’s head had cleared just a little, save for the pounding headache. He sat forward on the seat, his left arm resting gingerly on the table top. The ice that Cela had placed on each side of his wrist had blocked the pain for the most part; that is, unless he tried to move his hand at all, even as little as wiggling his fingers.

‘My wrist will hold for now,’ Will said as the healer entered the kitchen. He waved Master Puddifoot and the others toward Primrose. ‘She needs to be seen to first.’ He shook his head bringing on a small shower of stars and pain within. ‘It’s my fault she even tried to climb up the blasted ladder. I wasn’t thinking; didn’t stop to think it was her who was calling up to me. You get her fixed up and comfortable…then come see to me…’

Will twisted in his chair and reached across the table with his right arm. He patted Prim softly on the back of her hand and gave her a chagrined smile. 'I'm so sorry this happened to you, Prim. You be a brave lass, now. You'll get all fixed up and be better soon, won't she Master Puddifoot?'

“I should say so. Give it time, and the leg ought to be good as new,” Master Puddifoot said, as he finished examining Primrose’s leg. He appeared completely oblivious to the interplay between Primrose and Will, but the same certainly could not be said of Cela. “Nothing more than a bumped head and hurt wrist,” she had assured Primrose. “Dick said he was up and moving. Don’t fret yourself over it, and don’t blame yourself either.” Indeed, it seemed to Cela that a bump on the head seemed to be just the thing Will needed to wake him up a bit as she watched him pat Primrose on the back of her hand and watch the doctor care for her rather anxiously.

Then the tea began to boil, and Cela quickly took it off the fire and poured two steaming cups. “Here, drink these,” she told Prim and Will. “It won’t taste great, but it will ease the pain.” They gratefully accepted the cups as the doctor began to speak again.

“Now,” he told Primrose, “This will probably hurt a bit, but the leg’s got to be straight so I can splint it, otherwise the bone will heal crooked.” Even to Cela, who was only watching, the process of setting the broken bone straight looked exceedingly painful, if mercifully short.

Gable chose that moment to reappear in the kitchen, and Cela gently shooed her out, telling her, “The doctor’s got it all under control now; Will and Primrose will be fine. You can go back to whatever you were doing before, and if we need you for anything, we’ll let you know.”

As the kitchen door swung shut behind Gable, Cela realized with some alarm that she ought to be following her own advice: noon was fast approaching, and lunch wasn’t near ready! She quickly set to her cooking: cheese and fruit and bread to be readied, soup to be made – but all while still keeping half an eye on Primrose and Will.

Jack eased himself out of the tub with a decidedly reluctant sigh. The tips of his fingers had gone all ‘pruney’ and the water had gone a bit cold, but if he could have, he would have stayed happily immersed in the fragrant waters for…well…forever, he thought. He’d never before had such a bath. A dip in some cold lake or squatted down by the edge of some colder stream had been good enough for him until now.

But now he’d crossed the line from utility to luxury. And he found he had no desire to go back.

He wrapped one of the thick towels about him and with another began to dry his hair. There was a small mirror in the room, steamed up of course from his bath, which he wiped clean with a few swipes of the towel corner. Jack tilted his head this way and that, considering his cleaned up face in it.

‘In for a copper penny, in for a silver,’ he said aloud as he picked up the straight razor and lathering brush on the small shelf by the mirror. Clean, then, and clean shaven, too, he walked to the door and opened it a crack, reaching out with his long arm to pluck up the bundle of clean clothes the server girl had left.

He dressed quickly and ran the comb he found through his thin, sandy hair, pushing it back in as neat a manner as he could behind his ears. With a light step, Jack went out the door, whistling a merry tune quite loudly. A notable fragrance of bathsalts trailed behind him.

Down the hall, he noted someone was just going out the door to the common room. One of the servers, he thought. He passed by his room, not feeling a bit tired anymore and went back out to the big room himself.

‘Maybe I can find Tollers and give him a hand with his chores,’ he said to himself. ‘Then we can go fishin’ sooner.’ He looked about the common room, wondering where the fellow had got off to.

If Primrose's leg had painful before, the process of setting the bones back into place was twice as bad. Her jaw clamped down tightly and she stiffened in the few seconds that Master Puddifoot took to put her twisted leg into normal alignment. Just a few seconds, and it was over. He wrapped her leg against straight planks of wood to keep it in place. Already, she was beginning to feel more comfortable.

At any rate, Will seemed better. She managed a soft smile in response to his hand against the back of hers. "I'm fine, Will. Really. It's just my leg, and Doc Puddifoot's taken care of that." The smile faded for a moment. It's my fault she even tried to climb up the blasted ladder. "It's not your fault at all. It's mine. I shouldn't have joked about coming up the ladder. I'd no business to. And now you're hurt." Her voice quivered on the last word. "I'm sorry."

Primrose took another sip of tea, half watching and half trying not to watch Doc Puddifoot winding the splint bandage around her leg. As soon as the last wrap of the bandage tightened above her knee, she asked him, "How's Will's wrist? And he took a nasty bump on the head too."

He bent Will's wrist and fingers, causing the ostler to wince. Primrose couldn't help wincing with him in sympathy. One finger was broken, but the wrist was only badly sprained. Next, Master Puddifoot ran his hand over the growing bump on the side of Will's head. Just a bump. Nothing serious. Primrose sighed in relief as Will's hand was treated in much the same way that her leg had been.

"There you are. That hand ought to be as fine as Prim's leg in no time at all. Just give it a few weeks rest and don't try climbing any more ladders for a while." For Primrose, at least, that last warning was hardly necessary.

Cela was already starting the soup. Work. Primrose thought she'd better get back to it now that Will was seen to. "Cela, please hand me those carrots and potatoes. My leg may be broken, but I can still chop vegetables for the soup."

Taffy sighed and skewed his mouth to one side. It was rather a sore point with him, the one about having pets. His sister had her kitten, His older brothers had their dogs. Working dogs, but companions nonetheless, of the animal variety. ‘Well, you know, I had a pet of sorts once, but my mother made me get rid of it.’

He stuffed the carving of the cat deep in his breeches pocket, seeing his sister and the new little friends she’d made looking his way. The three children turned back to whatever they had been doing and Taffy turned his attention back to Griffo.

He leaned his elbows on the table top and rested his chin in his hands. ‘I found a little weasel one time; abandoned in the field where we were running the goats to pasture. It was nice and soft and had a little pink nose. I waited and waited to see if its mama would come back, but she never did.’ He looked up at Griffo for confirmation of his reasoning. ‘I figured it was a orphan, you know.’ He drew his finger through a little puddle of water on the table. ‘Anyways, the little scamp, and that’s what I called him, too, ‘Scamp’, he wasn’t too good at remembering rules. He got into the henhouse and ate the eggs one too many times Mami said. And so she said he had to go. My Da took him out and let him go somewhere far away.’

Taffy sighed again. ‘Now she says we don’t need any more animals cluttering up the house. And it’s just not fair. Seren’s got Marmalade, and my brothers have their dogs.’ He furrowed his little brow and shook his head. ‘I’d really like to have some little pal of my own.’

Before Griffo could comment on the state of the young man’s pet-lessness, Lila Sandybanks called out her son’s name. ‘Taffy!’ She motioned him over. ‘Come help me move the chest and carpet-bags in the room, son. I want to get out our night clothes and the outfits for tomorrow need to be hung up.’

‘Just one second, Mother!’ Taffy ran back to Griffo’s table to say good-bye. ‘At least for now, Master Tunnelly. I have to help my ma do some things.’ He started back toward his mother, waving to Griffo as he did so. ‘Maybe we can play a game after lunch!’ He turned and ran toward his mother. ‘I’m coming!’

Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States.

Posts: 5,228

Later That Day - Afternoon, 3:30 about

The hours passed quickly and everyone was busy at the Perch. Over night guests took their leave, more people came, lunch was served, and more people left. Dick worked away as cheerfully as he could, considering the circumstances. Rowan, thankfully, didn’t disappear again, at least when the place was busy. Tollers finished moving the furniture and helped in the kitchen. Primose was in the kitchen, too. She refused to be moved. Said she could work just fine sitting down. Dick highly doubt it, personally, and would see that she was carried off to her room early that evening.

But for now, it was far too early to consider such things. The afternoon was only half spent. Voices came murmuring through the kitchen door from the common room as he sat down and put his tired feet onto another chair. They were all served and he hoped that they would be satisfied for at least ten minutes.

“Here, Cella, hand me a cup of some of that fresh brewed tea, please,” he said. “Heavens, I wasn’t expecting this first day of opening to be so busy. Thanks you,” he added, as Cella set the steaming cup before him. He picked up the spoon she had provided and stirred absently. “Primrose, how are you holding out? Are you tired yet?”

A wooden platter rested next to Primrose's arm, laden with neatly chopped potatoes, carrots, celery, and other vegetables for the next meal. She chopped away furiously, hoping to distract herself from her still aching leg by working.

"Primrose, how are you holding out? Are you tired yet?"

The knife stopped clattering against its cutting board. Primrose placed it at the edge of her piled work and thoughtfully took a sip of tea before answering. She was tired. Dreadfully tired, in fact, from the triple strain of the fall, fighting against pain, and her earlier (and still not completely resolved, though she wasn't sure why) worry for Will. But the only way Primrose thought she could stop herself from collapsing into tears and sleep was to keep working. At least until evening, when she could retreat to her room and, free from prying eyes, allow her exhaustion to show. But not now.

"Tired? I don't know. I suppose I'm no more tired than could be expected. Leastways, I'm not tired enough to drop my work when there's still something I could be doing here." She took another sip of the tea and smiled, only a droop at the corner of her eye and a slight faintness to the smile betraying her true weariness.

Tollers hung up his dishcloth and grinned broadly at Jack. "Thanks so much for your help. I couldn't have gotten through all these dishes without you lending a hand." Privately, Tollers was wondering if Jack had ever before helped in a kitchen. He had been awkward washing and drying the dishes and seemed confused when Cook had barked at them to go fetch her some special spices from the cellar.

Despite this, Tollers was extremely grateful to be finished with work and heading down to the river. "Well, what'll it be? Want to throw a line in off the bank, or would you rather take out my boat? It's just a short walk down the riverbank. The hobbit pushed open the gate and trotted across the roadway in the direction of the little tributary of the Brandywine that ran near the Inn.

Jack folded up his dishtowel and hung it back on the rack where he’d gotten it. They were a neat and tidy lot, these Perch Hobbits, he surmised, looking about the kitchen. His glance fell on the cook, and he quickly lowered his eyes, hoping she had not noticed.

The woman scared him. Now that was the plain truth of it. She’d barked out orders at him as if he were some shave-tail mule needing to be broke in to harness. And well, he s’posed he was one, having never actually helped out in a kitchen before. But he’d done alright, he thought. Only one dish dropped when he was drying it. And how was he to know the tableware had their own little compartments . . . forks here, spoons there, knives there. He thought it quite amazing there was a drawer to keep them in in the first place, never mind the organizing of it.

Ah, well, he supposed he’d learn . . .

Now where had that thought come from? He shivered at the ridiculousness of it. He never stayed long enough anywhere to learn anything but where the good silver was kept, or the coin. Still, he had to admit, he was beginning to enjoy the camaraderie of those at the Perch. No one, at least to his face at any rate, had made an assumption he was up to no good. They kept offering him the chance to act like he was a normal sort of fellow, expecting he would do so. Make the right choice, act honest, help out before you help yourself. Have mercy! Just thinking about all this stuff was beginning to make his head ache.

‘Let’s take out the boat,’ Jack said, following Tollers out of the kitchen and through the yard. ‘I’ve a mind to do a little drifting on the Brandywine. Opportunity to try out a number of pools, eh?’ Clear my head, too he thought to himself.

‘So, what sort of pole do you favor?’ Jack asked as they crossed the road and headed down to the river. ‘Best one I ever had was one made of ash wood. Real light it was and had a good bend to it when a fish pulled on it. Used it to fish in the ponds back home. Big old perch there, hiding in the shadows and the root tangles of the willows what grew along the banks. But man, let me tell you those fish loved grasshoppers. And all I’d have to do was twitch one on the water surface, and those greedy fish would rise to it every time!’ Jack laughed at the recollection.

‘How bout the Brandywine? Never really fished it much down thisaway. What do they favor down here, these trout of yours?’

Will set his own mug of tea down carefully on the table. The herbs that Mistress Brandybuck had put in the concoction had gone a long way to ease his pain. But there was still a persistent dull ache that beat at his temples. And try as he might he could not find a comfortable position for his arm. His wrist ached and his broken finger, though well splinted, was beginning to pain him more and more.

Primrose seemed to be keeping up a brave front. There was a decided droop at the corner of her eye and a slight faintness to the smile which betrayed her true weariness. He watched her as she paused in her vegetable chopping to drink some more from her mug of tea.

He scooted to the edge of his chair, pushing his mug away from him as he did so. ‘You know, one of my brother’s broke his leg once. Fell out of a tree. The healer told him he’d heal faster if he rested as much as he could and didn’t move that leg’s bones around too much.’ He pursed his lips as if considering something and how to say it.

‘Now I know what you do is probably none of my business, Prim. But I am tired and hurting and somehow I just don’t think it right to leave you here while I go off to lay down for a bit. It would ease my mind no end if I knew you were resting, too. What do you say if we both go have a bit of a rest in our rooms and agree to have a little supper together later on?’ Will looked hopefully toward her. He was still feeling quite guilty about her accident.

In her way, Cela had forgotten about the wider implications that Primrose’s and Will’s injuries might have on them. She had been careful to see that Primrose not move from her chair and perform all her duties sitting there, but beyond that had not thought that her injury might make her more tired than usual. Now that this possibility had been brought to attention, however, she was determined to see that Primrose received all the rest she needed.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of in admitting you’re tired, Primrose,” Cela said kindly but firmly. “If you need a rest, do say so and we’ll get you back to your room for a lie-down. The last thing I need is you making a little mistake like cutting yourself – it’s no good thing to be working in a kitchen when you’re tired.”

She gathered up the peeled potatoes from Primrose’s platter and set them in a pot to boil. “There aren’t that many more vegetables I need you to chop now, anyway. Why don’t you go have a rest, and if you feel better later on, you can come back and help. How’s that?”

Primrose hesitated. She was tired, but she wanted to keep working, all the same. At the same time, Cela, Will, and Dick all seemed to be hinting that she should rest. She knew that they were right, but she had a streak of stubbornness that had a habit of appearing at the worst times. This was one of them.

Everyone was looking at her now. From the concerned expressions on their faces, Primrose knew she wasn't fooling anyone, and she sighed in resignation. Reason won over her obstinacy.

"I guess I should rest a bit. But I think I'd rest better outside. Fresh air and sunshine are just the thing. Much more than being cooped up in my room. And besides, I'd be closer sitting on one of those benches outside the door here if you needed me again. How's that?"

Meliot had remained in the room even after she had heard Rowan leaving. She had understood her message, and she knew that all was safe for the moment, but she felt as if she could not move. Her legs were shaking. What if she was caught, just as she was escaping?

"Oh, come on, lass!" she said, annoyed with herself. "Stop wasting time, and walk out that door. And the sooner you do it, the better it will be for all of us."

She cautiously opened the door and loooked arround. No one was to be seen. She quickly got out, closing the door behend her, and ran down the corridor. As she ran, she had the uncomfortable feeling that she had been seen.

Meliot reached the commmon rooom trying with all her might to hide her panting. She looked arround, searching for Rowan. She soon found her, and went to her.

"You willl never believe what I have found in there." she whispered. "Come, let's go somewhere where I can show you."

Rowan looked about hastily, craning her neck to see if that Jack person were anywhere about. When she assured herself that he was no place where he could see her and Meliot, she took her friend by the arm and hurried her to an empty table.

'I can't get away just now,' she whispered. 'Much as I'd like to! Prim's gone off and broken her leg and Will fell off the stable somehow and broke a finger and sprained his wrist.' She grinned and raised her eyebrows at Meliot. 'Hmmm...and come to think of it, they both ended up on the ground quite nearby each other. Or so I've been told. I'm thinking there might just have been a little hanky-panky going on, as my Gran would say!'

She looked about to see where Master Boffin was. 'Here, help me get these last tables cleared and wiped, will you? I'll get that lot over there who just came in some bread and cheese and ale. I think then I can slip away until it's time for the supper crowd.'

Rowan handed Meliot a rag and a tray for gathering up the dirty dishes. But before they parted to get the tasks done, Rowan drew up near to her friend and spoke low. 'Thorns and thistles! Just tell me quick what you found, won't you? I'm dying of curiosity already. You can show me whatever it is when we're done here.' She peeked about quickly to see if anyone were watching them.

Location: You say your hurting is over.. It feels like you're out of reach...

Posts: 86

Gable just finished mucking out the last stall and leading the pony to the stall. “There you are, boy. How’s a nice and clean stall sound to you?” Gable asked the pony, taking off his bridle.

She hung the bridle and walked into the Inn, and over heard Primrose and Will talking about having a rest. Gable walked to her room and changed into her mother’s dress, one that she’d never worn out of her room before, and one that she kept secret. It was the only dress, and the most beautiful, in Gable’s eyes, from her mother’s wardrobe.

She walked over to her dresser and opened up the upper drawer, a little too high for any hobbit to reach without standing on something. Gable reached in and pulled out her father’s shirt, and hugged it. She missed them both so much, and her foster parent’s. She was allowed to keep a two hat’s from them after they died one from her foster-father, and one from her foster-mother.

Gable carefully placed the hats’ and shirt back into the drawer, and changed into a dress that she’d gotten, here in the shire, and folded her mother’s dress carefully, and placed the soft blue gown into the drawer, atop of her father’s shirt.

She took off her boots and put on a pair of elf girl’s shoes. Then unbraided her hair and brushed it out. Letting it go long, as she didn’t do so often. She headed back down stairs to see if any help was wanted.

"Actually, we won't be fishing in the Baranduin, Jack. I'd love to go down to the big river but there's not enough time today. The Stockbrook cuts through the southern portion of the village and runs just across the road from the Inn. Plus, it has a good supply of brown trout along with lots of other fish."

It took only a few minutes of walking until they arrived at the bank of the small river. They walked downstream a few paces. Ahead of them, they could glimpse a bend in the river where a large tree grew with low hanging bows. Tied to one of these boughs was a small grey boat with two oars, just large enough to carry a hobbit and a man.

"She's my beauty," beamed Tollers, with obvious pride. '"I call her "The Brandy". Tollers paused a minute and then went on in a voice tinged with some regret, "Still, I only putter about in the waters near Stock. You know, Jack, you're a lucky fellow. From the sound of it, you've been all over. Unfortunately, I've been nowhere at all. They say that this river begins in the forests above Woody End, and flows through the Marish until it comes here. If you walk a bit further upstream, you'll see where it empties into the Baranduin, a few miles north of Bucklebury Ferry. I guess you must have come by way of the ferry to get to the Shire. From there, the Baranduin runs south for a long, long way. Some folk even claim it goes all the way to the Sea, but I couldn't say for sure one way or the other."

Tollers confessed, "I've only been to Woody End once and, as for the Sea, I've never even seen it. I'm ashamed to say, but I haven't even been to Bree. Maybe someday, you and I can travel together to Bree, and I could meet your friends, and family, and such."

Bu that time, they had reached the boat. Tollers squatted down and took out two poles, each with a line, a sinker, a float, and a small hook attached. "Alright, now, no use wasting time on regrets. Take whichever one you like, then we'll get inside and row a bit upstream to a place I know that's wonderful for fish. Nice, deep, shady waters. They love to go there in the late afternoon."

There had been ‘The Nap’. Mother insisted on it each day. Seren, of course, slept, as she was just five. Taffy was allowed to sit on his bed for a space of time, quietly engaging in some occupation. Drawing perhaps, or reading the little chapbook his Uncle had given him – Wild tales of animals who could talk and how they helped or tricked or bested the Hobbit characters depending on what the story was.

He like the one best about the fiery colored dragon. It made him shiver at the thought of those teeth and claws and flaming breath. But he liked how smart the old worm was and how he could trick people just using their own words against them.

And now naptime was over. They’d had a nice cold glass of cider each, and a fat jam sandwich from the kitchen. Something to tide them over ‘til supper. Taffy was sent out to the front lawn to supervise his sister. And he thanked his lucky stars that the two children of the Innkeeper, Daisy and Dorlind, had come out to play, too, keeping her company. A quick game of tag was organized and Taffy played for a bit, then left the three to their own devices as he sat on the bottom step of the inn. He’d been thinking about that dragon he’d read about. There had been a small drawing penned along the edge of the page, giving the author’s idea of what the great beast looked like.

Taffy hauled a nice little block of soft wood from his pocket and fetched out his whittling knife. He turned the piece of wood over and over, considering it from all sides. And when he’d got the feeling for the flow of the grain, he began to rough out the dragon’s shape.

Meliot had to try hard to restrain herself not to ask details about what happpened to Prim and Will. After all, she had a much more pressing matter at hand. When that was clear, she would turn her curiosity to other things too. Therefore, she began speaking in a low, secretive voice. She told Rowan of all that she had found in Jack's room, being careful to describe every item of jewelery found with as much detail as posible.

"You should have seen them, Rowan!" she exclaimed passionatedly. "They were all so lovely and so bright, they seemed to have been fit for a qween's use! One could hardly believe that the likes of that one can afford such things. And why does he go about with them, I will never be able to understand. But the jewels are not all." At that, Meliot cast an uneasy look about her, and lowered her voice even more.

"I found something, Rowan. A drawing with an x on it. It seems like a map that leads to something, as in the tales we've heard. I really must show it to you, but not here. Someone might see us."

She wondered if she should tell Rowan that, as she had escaped from Jack's room, she had felt as if someone had seen her, but she thought better and decided to keep that for herself. She could not be sure about it, and she did not want to give Rowan the impression that she was frightened in any way.

Cir was bored, and the sidelong glance at her brother confirmed that he was feeling the same way. They were sitting by the fire in the Woodhall, staring into the flames as though they would offer some excitement. For a place exclusive to elves there wasn’t much light-hearted singing or dancing going on, and the twins had even been frowned on for making their own music.

The journey from Rivendell had been spent in a similar quiet, subdued state, unsurprising since they’d been stuck with this group of pilgrims travelling to the palantir of the Emyn Beraid. She could only assume that her parents had thought the experience might calm the two siblings down a little before they reached their aunt’s house in Mithlond. Enhiriel especially had not been pleased when the twins had taken it upon themselves to reorganise the library to what they thought was a better system. It seemed that neither Erestor nor Elrond had not been quite so appreciative of their efforts, and it had been quietly but firmly suggested that perhaps they go out to see the world a little. Their father, Gilthalion had been the one to decide that they should go to visit Mithalwen, certain that she would be able to cope with their boisterous nature.

Cir was beginning to think that their reputation had preceded them, and possibly one that was undeserved, as the pilgrims were keeping such a close eye on them that she wondered if they’d been told that their activities might lead to genuine harm rather than simple annoyance. Their few nights in Bree had been spent under the watchful gaze of at least 4 of the pilgrims at any one time, so they’d had no chance to go and explore, and both were feeling frustrated with the restrictions being placed on them.

Now at least they were being allowed time on their own, but the delights of the Woodhall had faded once every tree and bower had been explored. They had heard from the hobbit Bilbo of his adventures in the halls of King Thranduil in Mirkwood, but to their disappointment the woodland halls of their own people were little more than a glorified campsite, and music or noise of any kind were discouraged during the day when they might be a disturbance to the local inhabitants out and about their business. Only when the stars rose did the music start and might pass as an echo into hobbit dreams.

A sigh from Cir caught her attention.

“Bored?” She asked, knowing the answer, and his nod confirming it. “So let’s get out of here!”

Cir looked at her, a grin slowly appearing on his face.

“Got a plan?” He asked.

“Of course.”

Half an hour later the twins were up a tree, watching the comings and goings at a place called “The Golden Perch”. They had come out of the woods and had simply started walking across the fields in the general direction of the building in the near distance, Cir complimenting her brother on his excellent distraction skills. She never could work out how he got even much older and wiser people to fall for his tales, but she was very appreciative of his talents none the less.

“What do you think?” Asked Cir, ready to go inside and explore but, for once, waiting for his sister to give her opinion.

He had done his part by technically informing one of the older elves that they were going without them fully realising the significance of his words. The secret, he found, was to find someone who was so much more interested in something else and give them a rambling explanation which contained vague references to something worthwhile such as collecting firewood until they said "Yes?” The enquiry was taken as permission and the pair disappeared before their hapless victim could quite work out what they had been thanked for. It had been easier than expected, and now they had reached Woodhall, which pilgrims regarded as home territory. He knew his sister would insist on the final decision, using the prerogative of her extra 20 minutes of age. He also knew she was just as curious as he and was sure she would want to go in. Might as well let her think she has her own way, he thought, easier for me to win next time.

Able to see through the windows, Cir had seen the warm welcome given to every person who had entered since the two of them had hopped up the tree. The hobbit at the bar looked to have an easy-going and kind nature, even seeming comfortable chatting to the elf they had observed sitting at one of the tables. She had also seen what looked very much like a ranger being almost interviewed by two members of the race of Men, and she was itching to get inside and find out what was going on. Cir’s comment in her ear had startled her, not least because it seemed that he was actually going to listen to her opinion.

“I think it looks good.” She replied, lithely dropping from the branch she’d been perched on, closely followed by Cir. When they were full grown the boy would surely be a little taller and broader than his sister and his features a little stronger but for now, clad in similar clothes they were as alike a pair of bookends at first glance certainly - and at second and third too for all but the most observant.

Pausing only to check on the safety of the purse of coins their parents had given them "for emergencies", the two made their way inside carefully, ducking to get through the door with heads still intact. Once in they were able to straighten up again, and took a few moments to just look around. Their experience of hobbits was limited to the brief exposure they’d had to Bilbo, and they’d been told that he was a great exception to normal hobbit behaviour. Those seated round the tables stared at them as they entered, but Cir felt no ill will directed at her or her brother, and smiled at the frank curiosity on many of the faces turned toward them.

Nodding politely to those they passed, the twins made their way up to the counter Cir had seen what appeared to be the Innkeeper standing behind, and waited for him to reappear.

Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States.

Posts: 5,228

Dorlind

“What are you whittling?”

The question came from Dorlind. He cocked his head sideways to see over Taffy’s shoulder when he wasn’t exactly standing behind him. Taffy looked up briefly. “A bird?” Without asking permission or if he was invited, he sat down on the step beside him. “How’d you learn how to whittle? Does your Dad let you play with knives? Mine don’t. Mami and Papi think I’d chop of my finger.” He made the motion of whittling, but his pretend knife went to far and sliced his finger. “Augh!” he cried in mock horror. “See?” he went on, becoming serious again. “I keep telling them I wouldn’t, but they don’t believe me. My big brother is allowed to whittle. He makes whistles. Can you make whistles?”

--Dick

Dick was relived when Primrose finally gave in to resting. He wasn’t so sure of her being able to rest better outside in the sun without anything really comfortable to sit or lay on, but he figured he would press his luck and make her change her mind. He agreed to let her go outside and sit on a bench and straight away set around to helping her.

“I’ll help you now, lassie, but later we’ll get you some right proper crutches that you can hop around on. Lilly, dear, grab a stool, please, and we’ll prop up your foot. Someone should find a pillow, too, or something to cushion it.”

In just a few minutes, they had Primrose situated outside. The bench sat near the kitchen door in the shade of a large tree and surrounded by sweet herbs and some brilliant flowers. Her leg and foot was propped up by a stool with a cushion on it and Dick even went so far as to fetch a blanket in case she got cold.

“Now, don’t hesitate to holler if you need something,” he said as he stepped away. “Cela will hear you, or someone will, I’m sure. Understand?”

Primrose nodded and thanked him and Dick hurried back into the inn. “Keep your ears sharp, Cella, in case she calls,” Dick said as he passed through the kitchen. “Lilly, you don’t mind staying around, do you? I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, Dick. I’ve got it under control.” Lilly smiled at him from where she sat, chopping vegetables. “I’ll help Cela here. What about Will, here?” She nodded towards the young hobbit. Dick blinked at him.

“Oh! Will! My word, in my worry about poor Primrose. . .hold on a might, Will. I’ve got to go back out, I think someone else has come in, but if you need to go rest, then go right ahead. You’ve got my permission.”

He hurried out into the common room and sure enough, two newcomers had come in. Elves, no less, Dick noted with surprise. There hadn’t been elves around for some time. Gable was about constantly, yes, but she lived there and had become a part of life.

“Good afternoon!” he said, smiling his broadest. “How can I help you?”

‘The Stock Brook, is it?’ Jack took the pole Tollers offered him and looked it over. ‘Yep, this’ll do just fine. Did you make it yourself, Tollers?’ he asked as the two waded out a little into the water and climbed into the boat.

He let Tollers take the oars as he knew the river and Jack didn’t. On the way home, he promised to himself, I’ll do the rowing. It was a generous thought on his part; the sort he was unaccustomed to thinking. Jack reached up and scratched his head. Just what was going on here?

They soon arrived at one of Toller's favorite pools. Jack helped throw out the little anchor – a rope and a heavy stone. Baiting his hook, he threw it out a little away from Toller’s own line.

‘By my old man’s whiskers!’ he cried, seeing the bobber begin to bob up and down with a vigor almost right away. ‘You were right, my friend! Great place to fish!’

He hauled in the first of his catch with a laugh. ‘You know, Tollers, you’re an easy man to be around,’ he said stringing his catch on a rope line and lowering it back into the water to keep fresh. ‘You ever get a mind to…you have time, that is, we could see some of those sights you heard about…

Though not right away, I hope.. he thought to himself. I kinda like it here…

Carantilion realised that his sister, having led the way into the inn was going to let him do the talking... which was a little unfortunate because the hobbit landlord's friendly greeting had reminded him that he would have to use the Westron for the first time in some while. He had not been the most attentive student and in recent years, since the twins misadventures had started to be regarded as borderline delinquency rather than youthful high spirits, they had been given little chance to mingle with the non-elvish visitors to Rivendell.

The boy was slightly mesmerised by the sight of the hobbit. He looked rather like the Mr Baggins he remembered with his merry round face and brown curly hair but he seemed much shorter (Cir had forgotten that he had grown well over a foot since Bilbo's visit ).

After a slightly too long pause as he gathered his thoughts and words and spoke at last "I would like something to drink, please". The Landlord chuckled to himself, told the young elf he was in the right place and asked him to be more specific, what did he normally drink?

Encouraged , the boy became more verbose - "water, wine, sometimes mead, perry or ale " he said hoping he had got the words right. "We had miruvor once but I don't want anything like that again" he added making a face and remembering a disatrous raid on the Rivendell stills.

"Mirrorwater ?, what is that? ", asked Dick puzzled.

"I don't know the word in your tongue but it burns the throat and gives a headache" answered the elf ruefully.

The hobbit chuckled again - "Ah firewater... well we have that and most of the other things you named but what we are known for is our beer - but not all ladies care for it" he added with a glance at the elfmaid.

"That isn't a lady - that's my sister" said Cir cheerfully " and if you tell her she won't like something because she is a girl, she will want it - so two beers please as long as we have enough money?" he finished anxiously showing the hobbit the assortment of coins from the little leather pouch.

Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States.

Posts: 5,228

“That isn’t a lady - that’s my sister,” the elf said. Dick’s eyes glowed with humor. A young pair of siblings, no doubt. “. . .So two beers please as long as we have enough money?” Dick looked at the coins that the elf presented and his face that had clouded slightly, cleared instantly.

“Enough? Why that’s far more than enough! You could buy yourselves dinner and still have left over! I’ll get the beers. Where’re you two from?” He asked the question as he half turned to fill the mugs. He watched the ale foaming up in them with half his eye as the elf responded.

‘I can make whistles, Dorlind.’ Taffy paused for a moment and looked at the younger boy. ‘In fact, if you fetch me a nice thick twig, say one about as thick as your daddy’s little finger…and about as long, too, then I’ll make one for you.’ He looked over to where Seren and Daisy were chasing a grasshopper. ‘Best you get one for your sister, too. If she’s anything like mine, then she’ll whine until she gets one.’

Taffy went back to his whittling. He stopped again and showed Dorlind the roughed out form. ‘It’s not a bird. Though it does have wings.’ He leaned close to Dorlind as if sharing a secret. ‘It’s going to be a dragon.’

‘I’ll meet you out front,’ Rhys called to his sister as she stood in front of the little polished mirror that hung on the wall. They’d excused themselves earlier from Hithadan’s company, saying that they had some business to attend to.

Tanni smiled at her brother as she fastened back her thick red hair with a beaded clasp her mother had made for her. ‘Go on, now. Let me just change my blouse and I’ll be ready to go.’ She shooed him out the door, promising she would hurry.

Rhys nodded to the two young fellows sitting on the porch and smiled at the picture of the little girls engaged in their giggling pursuit of the grasshopper. The ostler was nowhere to be found when he got to the stable, which was of no concern really. Nia and Olwen nickered softly as Rhys whistled. ‘Come on girls!’ he called to them, opening the doors to the stalls. The familiar routine of harnessing them to the cart took little time, and soon he had pulled up in front of the inn.

‘See, I told you I’d be ready!’ laughed Tanni, running down the stairs. She climbed into the cart and sat down. The warm afternoon breeze tousled her hair; she pushed back a stray strand, hooking it behind her ear. ‘I hope it’s as Rowan said…that Granny Greenhill won’t mind if we just drop in on her.’ Tanni untied her cloak and slipped it from her shoulders, letting it fall over the back of the cart seat. ‘How long do you think we’ll be gone on our errand?’ she asked in an offhand manner, flicking her eyes toward him and then away.

He raised an eyebrow at her, his mouth curving up in an impious grin. ‘Well, I’m thinking we’ll be back in time for the evening meal. Why do you ask?’

‘Oh, no reason, really. Just making conversation.’

‘Mmhmm…’ he murmured, flicking the reins lightly against the mares’ haunches. And noting, as he did so, she had begun to sing softly to herself.

‘Tis a nice piece of work there, laddie!’ Skirvir threw back his hood and crouched down to watch the boy as he whittled. ‘Fiercesome creature though. Be glad you never had the chance to see one.’ He tipped his head this way and that regarding the form that was slowly taking shape. He was a craftsman, himself, though his preferred medium was quartz. He too liked to make small carvings of animals, many of which he gave to his younger cousins.

‘If you’re around this evening, you might get me and my cousins there,’ he said pointing to Bívor and Bávor, ‘to tell you the story of the great winged beast that stole our clan’s treasure and drove us from our home.’ He stood up with a mild groan and the cracking of tired knees; it had been a long journey since sunrise. ‘’Twas red, that beastie was. And he breathed fire out when he was angered.’ A smile creased the nearly hidden lips beneath the wild reddish beard. ‘Hobbit, it was, as tricked that odious and tricksome wyrm!’ His eyes crinkled and glistened from beneath his bushy brow. ‘’Pon my word, it was so.’

‘Skirvir! We’re dying of thirst here!’ cried Bávor, his hand on the handle of the door.

‘And hunger!’ growled Bívor, motioning for Skirvir to come along.

Skirvir nodded to the boy and to his younger companion. ‘We’ll see you later, eh? Looking forward to seeing how that piece turns out.’ He turned to follow after his cousins. ‘Oh, and remind me, if you will.’ He said turning back toward the Hobbit lad. ‘I’ve some pieces of my own, little animals like that. Perhaps you’d like to see them.’

^*^*^

The trio of Dwarves stood in the entry way of The Perch and looked about in a favorable manner. Savory smells issued from the kitchen, and large mugs of foaming ale passed nearly beneath their very attentive noses.

Bávor closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. ‘Southern Star,’ he murmured appreciatively. ‘Ahhh, and Longbottom Leaf, as I live and breathe.’

‘There’s a table. Over there by the fire.’ Bívor led his companions toward it and motioned one of the servers over. ‘Couple of pitchers of ale, yes?’ he said to his companions as the server approached. ‘And a large platter of ham and cheeses and bread to wrap it in.’

‘And mustard,’ chimed in Skirvir. ‘And maybe we ought to make it three pitchers of ale. Been a long dusty road today.’

The other two considered the suggestion for less than a second and nodded in agreement.

Bávor leaned toward the server and spoke in a low voice. ‘If you could find us a bit of Longbottom Leaf, I for one would be eternally in your debt.’

“Enough? Why that’s far more than enough! You could buy yourselves dinner and still have left over! I’ll get the beers. Where’re you two from?”

Cir had left her brother to do the ordering, not wanting to look like she didn't know what she was doing, which she certainly would have as beer was as new a concept to her as it was to him. She watched in fascination as the liquid appeared, a white foam on the top of it, and took over the conversation. She'd had a little more practice with Westron than Cir had, or at least had concentrated on learning it better.

"We're from Rivendell. My name is Cir and this is my brother, also called Cir."

She caught the look of confusion on the hobbit's face and laughed.

"Yes our names are the same. Don't worry, most people get used to it in time."

The Innkeeper didn't look convinced but handed them the beers nonetheless. Warily Cir took a sip, rememebering the taste of miruvor as well as her brother, and hoping she wasn't about to experience a similar sensation of disgust. She was pleasantly surprised as the drink slid down her throat. It was bitter but didn't burn, and had an aftertaste that lingered in the mouth. Noticing that Cir had been watching her to gauge her reaction she smiled at him and nodded for him to try it.

"Thank you." She said turning back to the hobbit. "You said that we have enough money to buy food as well, what do you serve? Oh! And what is your name? It is hard to talk with someone when you haven't been introduced."

Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States.

Posts: 5,228

Dick
“You said we have enough money to buy food as well, what do you serve? Oh! And what is your name? It is hard to talk to someone when you haven’t been introduced.”

As though it would be easy to talk to two people who had the same name! But Dick answered immediately and evenly all the same. “Seredic Boffin at your service,” he said with a slight bow. “You may call me Dick, though. Everyone else does, mostly. Right now, we’ve got cheese and bread and seed cakes and other such stuff to serve, but in an hour or two, we’ll have a stew of a sort ready to serve. One of my hobbits have gone down to the river fishing and if he’s got a good catch, we’ll have fish stew. Or cook makes an excellent fish stew,” he added, nodding wisely.

--

Dorlind

Dorlind trotted off to find the sticks that Taffy instructed him to. How exciting! An older boy actually willing to make him something! His older brother, Treffy, rarely ever made him anything. He always said he was too busy, and for some reason, he always did seem to be busy. Dorlind didn’t always mind because occasionally they played together.

He found what Taffy said he would need, enough to make two whistles, and started back. He slowed his step as he drew near, seeing a dwarf standing and talked with Taffy. Two other dwarves stood in the doorway waiting for their companions.

Slowly, Dorlind drew near and he caught some of the dwarf’s words. “Hobbit, it was, that tricked that odious and tricksome worm! ‘Pon my word it was so.”

At that moment, the dwarf’s two companions called to him and ordered him away. Dorlind took a few more steps nearer as he straightened and went after them. “We’ll see you later, he? Looking forward to seeing how that piece turns out.” Dorlind went right up to Taffy’s side, extending the twigs silently as his eyes followed the broad back of the dwarf. “Oh, and remind me, if you will,” the stranger added without turning back around. “I have some pieces of my own, little animals like that. Perhaps you’d like to see them.”

Dorlind slid into his seat beside Taffy and whispered in his ear, thinking the dwarf might over hear him. “Who was that?”

Location: You say your hurting is over.. It feels like you're out of reach...

Posts: 86

Gable was walking over to the kitchens, when she saw two very familiar faces. She took a second look at them and instantly remembered the two from Rivendell, Cir and Cir. Gable smiled and started over to the table, where Dick was talking with the two elves.

“Hello, Cir and Cir.” Gable said. “How are things in Rivendell? It’s been a long time since anyone from down there has come up to the Shire, anyone that I know anyways.”

Rare as Dwarves were in Stock and as curious as she might be about where they’d come from and what they’d seen, still Rowan was in too much a hurry to get her duties done. Meliot’s find in Jack’s room had intrigued her.

‘Yes, sirs,’ she answered once they’d placed their order. ‘Ham it is and cheddar from Brandy Hall itself. Oh and yes of course mustard. I’ll bring you several kinds, in fact. Cook grinds them up…quite good. And a basket of bread…no, two, I think. Three pitchers of ale…’ she started to turn away. ‘Oh and yes…I’m sure I can round up a pouch of Longbottom Leaf, too.’

Rowan flew round the kitchen like a whirlwind, gathering up what was needed. She threw in a dish of pickles, too. With an economy of motion, she set the food and ale and pipeweed before the trio. Even as they thanked her, she was smiling and nodding as she backed away.

She dropped her tray behind the bar and ran to find Meliot. Taking her friend by the arm, she maneuvered the both of them out the door. ‘Let’s find somewhere private,’ she said as they hurried down the front steps……

Taffy’s eyes were still wide from the encounter with the Dwarf. He barely heard what Dorlind was saying. He’d heard of Dwarves, from stories his Grandda had told him, but he’d never clapped eyes on one. This was in deed a treat of a day! Taffy took in a deep breath and recalled his attention to the boy.

‘I can’t really say who that was. He didn’t give his name.’ Taffy held up his little carving and turned it this way and that in his hand. ‘But he says he’s a whittler, too. And likes to make little animals.’ His eyes shone with excitement. ‘And best of all, he said he would tell me a tale later about a dragon…..and about a Hobbit that bested him!’ Taffy took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped his little project in it, carefully replacing the carving in his breeches pocket.

‘Here, hand over those twigs you brought.’ He took the two pieces of wood and looked them over thoughtfully. ‘These will do nicely.’ He patted the step beside him. ‘Sit down close to me; I’ll show you how it’s done.’

Cir recognised Gable but called her by her true name " Hello Nolwe, quieter since we aren't there I guess - we have been sent away" he added mournfully, remembering sadly the conversation he had overheard between his parents, the one he hadn't even told his sister about. "We are going to stay with our aunt in Mithlond but we have had to travel with some pilgrims to the Emyn Beraid - old people" he added - Gable was younger than the twins and one of the few other young elves at Imladris - until she went away that was .

Overhearing his sister's conversation with Dick he asked "Could we stay long enough for the proper food or should we get back by then? I am fed up with bread and cheese - it seems that that and lembas is all we have had since we left home." He finally tasted his beer and found he liked the taste ...darker than the ale the elves brewed.

Cir had noticed Gable, or Nolwe as she was, arrive but had left her brother to talk with her while she tried to work out whether they had time to eat before they would need to leave if they intended to get back before dark. She was bored of staple foods, and wanted something more interesting, this fish stew for example. She decided that since they were already going to be in trouble for sneaking off, they might as well add to the list of offences, and turned to check with Cir, but found him already speaking to her.

"Could we stay long enough for the proper food or should we get back by then? I am fed up with bread and cheese - it seems that that and lembas is all we have had since we left home."

"I say we stay." She replied, directing her words at both Cir and Dick. "I'd like to try some of this local fish. I remember Mr. Bilbo saying that the Shire had the finest cooks in the world. And while we wait we can talk with you Nolwe, you must tell us all about this place."